


Angel of Small Death

by spicyboyfriend



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Flash Fic, Injury, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyboyfriend/pseuds/spicyboyfriend
Summary: Taeyong thought he was a man that was prepared for almost any situation in his life. He was someone willing to do just about anything, have any experience, meet any people, but this— all this blood, and this person, or whatever Yuta was, lying on the ground, just moments after he threatened to kill Taeyong— well, he wasn’t prepared for it at all.





	Angel of Small Death

**Author's Note:**

> completely unbeta'd, completely plotless. this is my first successful venture into writing again since november 2018
> 
>  
> 
> [everyone knows this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bmp4QWzHak)

It was sick. Taeyong expected it at least once a week, now. Expected to hear Yuta’s footsteps outside of his door, the gentle rap of his knuckles on it a moment later— his heart twisted in his chest at the idea of it, like he could hear it already. Not for a few more hours, Taeyong thought to himself, glanced at the clock. Maybe even less. It wasn’t like Yuta followed a schedule. It happened whenever he couldn’t control himself for any longer— whenever his instincts took over.

  
  
  


Taeyong didn’t know at first. He really did think Yuta was just a weird guy in his apartment building, who stomped around his apartment at night and came back way too urgently in the morning, like he was afraid of being out in the day or something.  _ That’s dumb,  _ Taeyong remembered thinking, whenever his brain proposed the idea of him being up to something no good. That’s dumb.

Now he wished he had listened to his own instincts, that knot in his stomach the first time he saw Yuta down the hall of his apartment complex, covered in blood, leaning against the wall as he heaved breaths in and out. Taeyong didn’t dare to breathe, remembered that he covered his mouth and his nose and shivered as soon as Yuta heard him down the hall, eyes immediately flickering open at him.

The only reason Taeyong lived was because Yuta wasn’t covered in someone else’s blood, but his own. He couldn’t keep Taeyong pinned to the wall for long, as he threatened to drink every last drop of blood from his throat. As soon as he bared his teeth and scraped them over Taeyong’s jugular, he was letting out a shuddering breath, fell to the ground in a disastrous heap of blood and pale skin and messy matted hair. And those fucking  _ teeth. _

  
  
  


Taeyong took another venture at his clock. A half hour. Maybe time was moving too fast because Taeyong wanted it to. Maybe some part of him really enjoyed Yuta at his door, begging for permission to enter.

(Of course he did. That’s why Taeyong kept letting him back in again.)

  
  
  


Yuta woke up from the hallway incident when Taeyong tried bringing him into his apartment, one limp arm slung over his shoulder, the rest of his body barely holding on to consciousness.

That was, until Taeyong took a step inside, tried to bring Yuta the rest of the way in, only for Yuta to whimper just slightly in pain.

Blood trickled from the corner of Yuta’s eyes, the inside of his ears, down the sides of his face from his hairline. Taeyong gasped, Yuta peering an eye open at him.

“You have to— you have to give me permission,” Yuta managed, before coughing out a mouthful of blood.

“I—” 

Taeyong couldn’t get the words out, not when there was so much  _ blood  _ and it was  _ everywhere  _ and— and Yuta was  _ dying  _ in his arms—

“I give you permission!” Taeyong shouted, watched as the blood stopped, and Yuta groaned in pain, slumping over as he nearly fell on the ground once more.

Now, Taeyong thought he was a man that was prepared for almost any situation in his life. He was someone willing to do just about anything, have any experience, meet any people, but this— all this blood, and this person, or whatever Yuta was, lying on the ground, just moments after he threatened to kill Taeyong— well, he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

But he pretended like he was. Cleaned Yuta up and washed his clothes, tried patching up his injuries as best as he could. By the time he was nearly finished, Yuta had woken up, let out a noise of pain at the sunlight spilling through Taeyong’s open living room window.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Taeyong said, watching Yuta’s reactions, as he writhed at the contact of sun on his skin. Taeyong watched it blister, just slightly, the skin peeling back where the sun met his skin.

If Yuta could form a full thought, it surely wasn’t coming to mind now, as he bit back a noise of pain, tried rolling off of the couch, but felt the wound on the side of his stomach reopening. Taeyong pushed him down on his couch, held him in place. He felt bad, but if Yuta was just going to get violent again, then Taeyong had to do something to stop him.

“Are you going to  _ hurt me?”  _ Taeyong said, much more firm in his voice. Yuta’s eyes shot open, a vulnerable glint in them.

“No,” he said, and a moment later, Taeyong let him go, went to his window, and closed the blinds. The sigh that left Yuta was almost instantaneous, the muscles visible against the pallid tone of his skin relaxing as soon as Taeyong stopped the torture.

Yuta wasn’t particularly talkative the first time around, for obvious reasons. He couldn’t return to his own apartment, as the walk between Taeyong’s and his own was about two minutes, but it was two minutes in the sunlight, which meant Yuta would run the risk of collapsing in the hall. 

Not to mention the gaping wound on his side, Taeyong guessed Yuta wouldn’t be leaving for a long while. Maybe he should call a doctor. Maybe Doyoung could help?

Well... there went all the plans, he had, he supposed.

For most of that day, Taeyong didn’t know whether or not he should leave Yuta alone, or be afraid to be cornered in his own bedroom, so he opted to sit in the dining room for most of the day, emailing his boss that he’d be unable to come in due to a “family emergency”, as well as letting his friends know that their dinner would have to be rescheduled, considering Taeyong had a massive blood stain on his couch now, and how was he supposed to host a dinner party with  _ that  _ staring at him?

It was a few hours later that Taeyong was startled by the sight of Yuta sitting up from the couch, immediately hissing through his teeth as he held a hand to his side and pulled back, grimacing at the dried blood on his fingertips. He moved some of the bandages, just as Taeyong stood up and rushed towards the couch.

“Could you— hey, don’t take those off. You’re going to get blood on my couch again— hey!” Taeyong shouted, just as Yuta tore the bandages off, revealed the skin underneath smooth and untouched, not even scarred. Only the dried pool of blood on the couch remained of the injuries. “Oh my god.”

“Where are my clothes?” Yuta said immediately. “What time is it?”

“It’s five. In the evening,” Taeyong clarified. “You’ve been here since this morning. I heard you out there.”

Yuta grimaced. “And my clothes?”

“You were covered in blood!” Taeyong said, gesturing towards his couch. “I had to get them off. You.... You.... The....” Taeyong trailed off as he realized the skin on Yuta’s side was perfectly healed— like, it was just now hitting him the severity of the trouble he had gotten himself into, as his eyes widened and he took a precarious step back.

“Don’t,” Yuta warned. Taeyong let his jaw go slack, before sprinting to his kitchen, running for the nearest weapon he could think of, because holy  _ fuck,  _ Yuta wasn’t  _ human _ , and he wasn’t sure why it was just now hitting him then, but Taeyong had to grab something to protect himself, and he couldn’t get there fast enough.

Yuta was in front of Taeyong just a beat later, pushing him back into the wall and roughly slapping his hand over Taeyong’s mouth for extra measure.

“I said, don’t.” His voice was firm, strict in how he enunciated his words. Taeyong couldn’t even bring himself to blink as he stared into Yuta’s dark eyes. They were practically black. They were terrifying. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”

Taeyong hesitated to nod, only did so when Yuta repeated the question.

“And I won’t hurt you, so long as you keep this between us.” Yuta’s skin was cool to the touch, nothing compared to the burning hot it was earlier. Could it have been because of all the pain he was going through, or because of something else? Taeyong didn’t know. “It’s our secret now. I can’t afford killing someone in my own apartment complex, unfortunately.”

If Taeyong said his heart didn’t lurch in his chest at Yuta’s voice, he’d be lying. He was trembling like a leaf. He was sure Yuta noticed. Maybe he just didn’t mention it out of courtesy.

“I’ll pay you for your couch,” Yuta said, as he let his hand drop to his side. “Could I have my clothes back, please?”

Taeyong didn’t even answer, just walked to the closet where his washer and dryer were, and pulled the clothes from the dryer before pushing them into Yuta’s arms. Yuta glanced at them. They were still stained from the blood, just slightly, but it was definitely better than the state he was in before. He almost would have been embarrassed, had he actually spoken to Taeyong more than in passing before this.

Yuta dressed himself silently, looked at the clock, waited patiently for the last ray of sunlight to dissipate from the hallway, before opening the door and taking a step out.

“Our secret,” Yuta repeated, before closing the door behind him and silently disappearing down the hallway.

The only thing Taeyong could think about, as he shakily peeled the covers from his couch cushions, made to wash them in the hottest water imaginable, was the fact that nobody would believe him if he told them all of this anyways.

“Our secret,” Taeyong repeated, grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and throwing it in with the hot water of his washer, the scent of iron rich blood in the air.

  
  
  


That was nearly two months ago, and every week for two months, Taeyong could expect Yuta at his front door at least once, knocking to be let in. At first, Taeyong figured it was to keep him in line— a scare tactic, as if to say that Yuta could find him whenever he wanted, kill him whenever he wanted, despite the fact that he said it would cause problems.

There was a gray area in their visits that Yuta began to cross more and more— where he would reveal parts of himself Taeyong didn’t ask for, though most of the time, he wanted to know anyways. And Taeyong began caring for parts of Yuta that Yuta didn’t ask for, though most of the time, he appreciated anyways.

Busted lips and black eyes, cuts and bruises on his hands, his pale fragile skin more damaged than Taeyong could fathom. By the time the two months were over, Taeyong began calling Yuta by name, expected him on too quiet nights, wanted him to stay when the sun was rising and Taeyong’s eyes were crossing from sleep deprivation.

They never said the word, though. The exact name for what Yuta was remained a sort of taboo. Taeyong thought if he never addressed it in their quiet moments, he could pretend this sort of interaction was normal. Yuta almost said it once, but Taeyong stopped him, out of fear for his reaction. What if he scared Yuta off? He’d never be able to forgive himself.

“Bloodsucker” was a really unpleasant term, and calling Yuta “Dracula” would be just plain goofy. “Monster” seemed too serious, too dark. Yuta wasn’t a monster. At least, in these four walls, to Taeyong, he was not a monster.

Just as Taeyong yawned for the first time that night, thought that maybe Yuta wasn’t going to show up, Taeyong heard the gentle  _ tap-tap-tap  _ of Yuta’s knuckles at the door. Taeyong tried to wait a moment before heading to the door, didn’t want to make it seem like he was  _ waiting  _ for Yuta. That’d just be pathetic, wouldn't it? Was this all Taeyong had to look forward to anymore?

Yuta stood at the entrance of Taeyong’s apartment, waiting for Taeyong to part his lips and welcome him in. But this time, Taeyong stopped, closed his lips and looked down at where Yuta’s shoe just barely toed the line between the outside and inside. He couldn't wait to get in. Maybe Taeyong wasn’t the only one looking forward to their late night encounters.

“Are you going to let me in?” Yuta prompted, hoping to hear Taeyong’s soft voice afterwards. Instead, he watched as Taeyong swallowed hard, could see the bob of his throat, before Taeyong took a step back— then another, and another. He was too far now. Yuta almost grimaced, but instead, met Taeyong’s gaze.

“What happens... if I don’t?”

“You’ve seen it already,” Yuta retorted. “I bleed.”

“I know,” Taeyong admitted. “But if I don’t, will you just leave?”

Yuta didn’t know how to answer that question. He paused, tried to read Taeyong’s expression. Taeyong wanted... something. He wanted something desperately.

Once again, Taeyong thought maybe he should just give up, let Yuta come in and do as he pleased, just as Yuta took a step forward, and another, and another, coming close to Taeyong, enough that Taeyong could see the twitch of Yuta’s lips, trying to hold back an expression of pain.

Taeyong wasn’t sure what he expected. He had seen it happen once before; the rush of blood from Yuta’s eyes, his hairline, seeping through the material of his shirt and dripping down to his wrist. The trembling of his body was more intense than the first time, considering he was practically unconscious then. Now, Taeyong could see how Yuta was fighting back the urge to break down right in front of him.

Just as a drop of blood made its way to Yuta’s fingertip and to the ground, Taeyong panicked.

“You can come in,” he said, sudden, hushed. 

It was enough for Yuta to hear, the blood stopping, streaking down his face in crimson red rich lines. Taeyong lifted one hand up, swept a drop away from Yuta’s cheek. His skin was still cold, goosebumps littering his body at the sensation of Taeyong touching him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Taeyong said, feeling guilty. Yuta didn’t say anything, just followed Taeyong to the bathroom, as he had done many times before, and sat down on the closed toilet while Taeyong made to grab the first aid kit. Yuta had made it clear many times before that he didn’t need those things humans needed— further distancing himself from humans and more towards  _ that  _ word— but Taeyong needed it. As a form of catharsis, he needed it to keep from going crazy.

Taeyong pretended not to notice how Yuta’s eyes lingered on him every second they were together, even as Taeyong said he was finished, and left Yuta to have a moment alone.

  
  
  


It felt... different this time. Taeyong could feel it from the very first moment Yuta was standing at his door, like Yuta wanted something from him, and Taeyong, the same. They weren’t friends. Taeyong didn’t even know how old Yuta was. He didn’t even know his favorite color.

It took Taeyong a moment to decompress, as he sat down on a different couch than Yuta— a new one, as he just couldn’t get the blood stains out of the old cushions, and Yuta insisted on buying a new one.

Yuta looked... sharp. Taeyong wasn’t particularly one for words, but that was definitely one that came to mind when he saw Yuta. Sharp, well defined— beautiful, even. Taeyong could admit Yuta was gorgeous.

“Are you afraid of me?” Yuta said, sudden. Taeyong jumped at the sound of his voice. He didn’t think Yuta was one to speak so bluntly.

“Yes,” Taeyong said without hesitation.

“Still? Even after all this time?” Yuta leaned back in his seat, picked up a glass of water Taeyong had grabbed for him out of courtesy, though he didn’t really need it. He swirled the ice around, staring at the condensation droplets dripping down the sides.

“You made it clear you’re someone I should be afraid of.”

Yuta couldn’t help the small noise of curiosity that left him at that.

“But you let me in every night I show up. Sometimes it’s more than once a week. You know that, right?”

Taeyong didn’t. He hadn’t been keeping track, really. The sleepless nights bleeding into days made it hard to keep track of where Taeyong’s day began and when it ended. He blushed furiously, looked away from Yuta.

“Won’t you kill me if I don’t?”

“Of course not,” Yuta said. “I don’t toy with my food that much. And I told you I wouldn’t the first night.”

“I didn’t think you were such a man of your word.”

“I’m hurt.”

But that wasn’t what Yuta wanted to talk about. Taeyong could tell. He could feel it in the air— palpable and thick, like Taeyong could reach out and grab it with his hands. He let out a small breath when their eyes locked.

“I didn’t feed tonight,” Yuta said. “It seems people are catching on. Walking in groups. I need to spread out my grounds. But it’s too late for that tonight.”

“Will you die if you don’t... eat?”

Yuta hummed. “No. Not for a night, at least.”

Taeyong didn’t think  _ this  _ was what Yuta was getting at, but the offer was something that lingered in his mind more often than he cared to think about— almost every night he and Yuta met up, actually.

“If you... bite someone, do they change?”

Yuta quirked a brow, looking Taeyong up and down for a moment to think about it.

“It depends on the intent,” he finally said. “If my intent is just to feed, then that’s all that will happen.” Yuta licked his lips, and Taeyong  _ knew  _ it was intentional, the small gleam of his white teeth under his lips making Taeyong shiver, remembering that faint scrape against his skin that first night. “If it’s to kill, then I’ll kill. If it’s to change... well, only those we really love can be turned.” Yuta corrected. “If you bite someone with the intent of turning them, but don’t really love them, they’ll die.”

Taeyong could have lived without that information. Like, really, his entire life without knowing. He supposed it was partially his fault for asking.

“And when you feed, what, er, what happens?”

“What do you mean?” Yuta said. Taeyong furrowed his brows.

“What does the ‘bitee’ experience?”

“Ah. The same as any other blood loss. Headaches. Nausea. Usually loss of consciousness, depending on how much blood the ‘biter’ takes.” Yuta teased, “itching at the puncture site. You know, like drawing blood.”

“Very funny,” Taeyong said, hated how pleased Yuta sounded with himself.

“Are you curious about it?”

This was dangerous. This was  _ alarmingly  _ dangerous. Taeyong knew it was.

“A little.”

“Being turned, or...?”

“Just— just the feeding,” Taeyong quickly tacked on. “Just that.”

Yuta sat up, towards Taeyong, leaning closer. It’s not like Yuta was inches from his face or anything, but it felt like it, with the way Yuta was studying him, like Taeyong was something worth being looked at in such a way. It took his breath away. Taeyong felt goosebumps prickle at the nape of his neck.

“Is this your way of asking?” Yuta said.

Taeyong flushed bright red, felt his face burning up at the question. What kind of thing was that to ask someone? He guessed it went either way.

“Only... only if you need it,” Taeyong admitted. “Only if you absolutely need it.”

Yuta couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, as he rose to his feet and approached Taeyong. Taeyong’s grip on the arm of the couch tightened, knuckles turning white as Yuta lifted his hand from his side. The touch of his fingers caressing Taeyong’s cheek made Taeyong’s jaw go slack, just as Yuta draped his fingers down the side of Taeyong’s throat.

“I’ll remember that offer, but not tonight,” Yuta said. “Your heart is beating too hard. You’ll bleed out.”

Despite this, Yuta leaned down, tilted his head just slightly, and planted a warm kiss on Taeyong’s neck. How the rest of Yuta could be cold, but his lips fire hot— Taeyong didn’t know. But he appreciated it, and he loved it, and he wanted  _ more.  _

  
  
  


Taeyong waited. He waited. He waited so long, he thought he might have been losing his mind. Did Yuta ever really exist? He wasn’t sure anymore.

It wasn’t until a couple months after, what felt like an eternity to Taeyong, that he heard those telltale knocks at his door. They weren’t any different than before. If someone had told Taeyong that it was just the day after the last time he had seen Yuta, Taeyong would believe them.

But it wasn’t, and Taeyong could feel it in the way Yuta stood at the door, like he had been holding himself back for  _ so  _ long.

“Come in,” Taeyong said, hardly hesitating. Yuta rushed forward, slipped his hand over Taeyong’s on the doorknob before closing the door behind him. Taeyong wasn’t even sure if he had enough time to gather his breathing before Yuta was running a hand down the side of Taeyong’s face, leaning in close and letting his breath fan over Taeyong’s cheek.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about your offer since you said it,” Yuta admitted, and it was the first time Taeyong openly blushed  _ because  _ of something Yuta said, something he did that was actually directed towards him, and not just his demeanor, the way he talked that made Taeyong feel swept off his feet.

“Do you— do you need it?”

“I don’t,” Yuta said, honest once again. “I  _ want  _ it. I don’t need it.”

God, Taeyong didn’t have to be told twice. Like butter, he melted in Yuta’s arms, let Yuta direct him towards his room, because apparently that’s where it’d be cleanest. Taeyong really doubted that, but he trusted Yuta enough not to dispute his logic.

“Will you still let me have you?” Yuta asked, just as Taeyong was ready to bare his neck and let Yuta have whatever he wanted— take whatever he wanted.

“Just this time,” Taeyong said, which he knew was a lie already. If Yuta asked him again, Taeyong would let him. A hundred times over, he would let him. Hell, Taeyong would be ready to throw himself any way he  _ could  _ at Yuta, if it weren’t for the fact that his head was already spinning, so he knew losing some blood was really going to set him back. Maybe next time. Maybe some other time. Taeyong didn’t know, other than he needed Yuta right now.

“How— er, how do you like doing this?”

Taeyong knew it was such an out of place question, but he figured he should at least  _ know  _ a little bit before it happened. He wasn’t sure if it was going to hurt, or just feel like a piercing pinch, or if it would burn, or  _ what. _

Yuta couldn’t help smiling a little.

“I’ll warn you beforehand,” he said, pulling Taeyong in by his waist and pushing him against the bedroom door behind him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Is that necessary?” Taeyong said, sounding more curious than he did adverse to it. Again, Yuta smiled.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve just wanted to for a while.”

Taeyong ignored the way his face heated up bright red, opted to nod his head instead of speaking, before he felt Yuta hold his chin in place with his thumb and forefinger, and tilting his head back just slightly. His lips parted naturally, soft and plush, while Yuta leaned in so  _ slowly,  _ so torturously slow, that Taeyong almost begged for him to hurry it up.

Yuta’s lips were so warm, so obscenely hot, as he kissed Taeyong for the first time, that Taeyong felt like his knees were going to buckle. Yuta dragged his tongue across Taeyong’s bottom lip, nipped at them with his teeth, made Taeyong shiver in anticipation.

“Please,” Taeyong pleaded, felt Yuta nod against his cheek, as he began to kiss down, down, down, until he reached the crook of his throat.

A thrill ran down Taeyong’s back when he felt the scrape of Yuta’s teeth against his skin, leaving warm stinging trails in their wakes, before Yuta finally pulled away, just slightly.

“Now, Taeyong,” Yuta said, and then leaned in again. Before Taeyong realized it, he had taken a deep breath in, breathed it out, and felt Yuta’s teeth sink into his skin, something feeling like acid stinging at his skin as Taeyong immediately whimpered and threw his arms around Yuta’s shoulders to brace himself.

The feeling was something Taeyong couldn’t even compare to any one thing. It felt like donating blood, the cold wash rushing over him in an all too quick motion, before it was replaced with heat— stinging, painful heat, all over his body. 

Yuta lifted Taeyong off of the ground, pinned him against the door for better stability, before sinking his teeth down into the same spot and letting Taeyong revel in the third effect of his bite— pure and utter bliss. 

His nerve endings were all numb and muted, now only sang praises for how he was being carried, how Yuta was treating him like some delicate little doll. He whimpered when Yuta pulled away, wiped his lips and let out a few panting breaths. Taeyong didn’t want to admit it at the time, but his body felt alight, almost like a little orgasm racked through his muscles and made him twitch with pleasure when Yuta laved his tongue over the sore bite wounds.

If this weren’t the first time, Taeyong would 100% let Yuta have his way with him, but it was, and as much as Taeyong wanted it, he was already feeling lightheaded. Yuta could tell as well, carried Taeyong over to the bed and laid him down carefully.

“Don’t leave,” Taeyong slurred, as Yuta made to stand up from the bed. Technically, Yuta should have been lying down somewhere as well, to digest what he had just taken in— especially from someone like Taeyong, who had developed a sort of affinity for him. Blood from people close to your life just tasted better, Yuta thought.

“I won’t,” Yuta said, though he knew it was as much of a lie as he wanted it to be. As much as he wanted to stay here and keep getting blood samples from neighbors, this was something Taeyong was definitely going to have to work through alone, not with a vampire pressuring him for more blood again.

Yuta ran his fingers through Taeyong’s hair until Taeyong was fast asleep, and quickly left Taeyong safe and sound in his bedroom, just the way they had left it the day before.

  
  
  


When Taeyong woke up the next day, sometime in the late afternoon in cold sweats, he found that Yuta was nowhere to be found. All that was left was a small note on the nightstand, along with some food and some water.

_ Give yourself a week or two. You’re recovering. _ __  
_ See you then. _ _  
_ __     Yuta

 

Taeyong grimaced. He’d asked Yuta not to leave, though he guessed, why would someone like Yuta really keep their word after something like that?

A stinging pain shot through Taeyong’s neck. He hissed through his teeth, rubbed his fingers over the wound on his throat, only to find a small bandage there instead. Yuta had patched him up before leaving.

Okay, so he wasn’t  _ completely _ deplorable, but still, Taeyong thought petulantly.

Taeyong couldn’t believe he missed Yuta already.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. please feel free to comment with errors, as this was lazily edited once. this was supposed to be a flash fic, but my word count never seems to stay low anymore. im still calling it a flash fic, tho
> 
> edit: forgot to mention that the "you have to let me in" reaction yuta has to being dragged inside of the apartment without taeyong's permission is heavily based off of [this scene from let the right one in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APxaGGdWOTg) (warnings for blood, eye horror, etc etc), one of my favorite movies


End file.
